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“Because we’re involved. It’s different.”
The only thing I can think of is to keep him talking. To maybe get him to see me as a real person and not just some object he's been admiring from afar. I hope that it will make him rethink what he's about to do. As he rants on about being invisible and me never seeing him, I rack my brain, trying to recall ever seeing this man before. And then it hits me. I’ve seen him around the complex. He’s part of Lane’s construction crew who’s doing the remodel on the building.
“You… I know you,” I say. “You work for Lane.”
“That sanctimonious prick. Yeah. I work for him,” he growls. “Thinks he’s better than all of us. Lords his wealth over us. Thinks he can have everything. Yeah, well, I’m about to show him I can have what he has.”
“Please don’t do this,” I plead. “You’re not invisible. I know—”
“It’s too late for all that, bitch. I tried to get your attention. Tried to make you notice me,” he snarls. “But all you did was turn your nose up at me like the spoiled little brat you are.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I’m just—”
“Yeah, I know. You’re shy. You tried that one before,” he sneers.
“It’s true. Ask anybody.”
“Nah. I ain’t gonna do that,” he scoffs. “You know what I am gonna do though?”
“Please don’t.”
“I’m going to keep you here for a while,” he says. “And when I’m bored with you, I’m gonna cut you up and leave you in pieces on Lane’s doorstep.”
I sniff loudly, the tears an unrelenting flood. “God, no. Please. I’m sorry for whatever I did. I honestly didn’t mean to ignore you. I—”
“You should probably shut up now. I don’t want to have to gag you,” he says. “The sound of you screamin’ is gonna turn me on.”
My struggles and crying only seem to be exciting him even more so I do my best to rein it in. To show no emotion. He obviously needs my fear and hysteria, and I need to deny him what he wants. But when he pulls a knife from a sheath on his belt, my resolve crumbles and I start to sob.
His lips start to curl but he suddenly pauses and cocks his head, listening. And then I hear it. The roar of an engine fills the room around us, and through the windows, I see the flash of headlights. I don’t know how—or how I know—but my heart swells, knowing Lane has come to save me.
14
LANE
After seeing that motherfucker’s face on the surveillance footage, I broke off a quick call to Eddie, my project manager. I gave him a quick rundown on what was going on and asked him to get me an address for that prick Greg Deever. The ex-con.
Once Eddie got back to me with the address of an old cabin set in a somewhat remote area, I took off, driving like a bat out of hell. Eddie said he was on his way and would call the cops en route. I guess that’s probably a good thing. It might keep me from killing this motherfucker with my bare hands.
Lanie’s Tucson bounces down the pitted and rutted dirt track that leads to the cabin, which is set about half a mile off the main highway. Tall trees press close on either side of the road, blotting out even the dim ambient light. I take a deep breath and try to calm myself down. I’m coming in too hot and remind myself that I don’t know for certain Deever has Lanie. All the video showed was what appeared to be him following her down the sidewalk. But Gwen had confirmed he was the freak who’d come in a couple of times and sat there staring at Lanie.
My gut is telling me he’s got her. But I need proof.
Dirt and gravel kick up against the undercarriage with loud pings and pops as I slam on the brakes and slide to a stop in the driveway. I’d just barely gotten out of the car when the sharp crack of a gunshot rings out, kicking up the dirt just a few feet away from where I’m standing.
Inside the cabin, I hear Lanie screaming my name. The sheer terror I hear in her voice turns the blood in my veins into ice. Another shot echoes through the darkness and pings loudly off Lanie’s car, sending up a spray of sparks that briefly illuminate the night.
“Shit,” I grunt and sprint to the trees.
Another shot rings out as I make it to the treeline and a bullet tears into the bark, sending out a spray of jagged fragments in its wake. I grimace and nearly lose my feet as a shard of the tree’s bark cuts into my cheek. Blood, warm and thick, slide down my face as I shelter behind the wide trunk of an ancient pine. My breathing is ragged and listening to Lanie shrieking makes my heart pound so hard, I’m afraid it’s going to burst. Even worse though is the sound of glass shattering followed by Lanie falling completely silent.
The lights in the cabin are all out and everything is dark, making it impossible to see where Deever is. But that works both ways. That means I know he can’t see me either. To take advantage of it, I need to draw him out and pinpoint his location.
Reaching down, I blindly dig around through the debris on the ground and find a small rock and pick it up. Getting to my feet, I lean out and hurl the rock in the direction of the car. A moment later, I’m rewarded with the sound of it pinging off the Tucson, and almost instantly, a trio of shots rings out. This time, I see the muzzle flash and know where that prick is.
Crouching down, I move quickly and as silently as I can through the bushes and dart among the thick trunks of the trees. I’m able to circle around behind the cabin and come up to the back door without drawing any fire.
Stepping carefully up onto the back porch, I reach out and take hold of the knob, turning it slowly. It’s unlocked. From inside, I can hear Deever’s muffled voice. He sounds angry and agitated—and like he’s talking to somebody. A moment later, I hear Lanie’s voice. It’s muffled too and I can’t make out what she’s saying. But at least I know she’s still alive.
